


The Initiation

by dreamydeku



Category: DPS - Fandom, Dead Poets Society (1989)
Genre: DPS, Gay, How Do I Tag, M/M, Pining, anderperry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-05-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:33:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamydeku/pseuds/dreamydeku
Summary: Todd Anderson isn't all that fussed about starting University. He isn't even sure why he's there. Then, he sees a boy at the Societies Fair that he just has to meet. Following, then joining the same clubs, he finds himself in the Dead Poets Society. But before joining and meeting the boy, he has to go through The Initiation.
Relationships: Todd Anderson & Neil Perry, Todd Anderson/Neil Perry
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	The Initiation

**Author's Note:**

> So this is based on a dream I had the other night, basically. And based on life, bc uni happened this year. Oh and based on when harry met sally because i watched that the other day, too. Todd is a bit more sassy in this one. Hope you like it :)
> 
> Oh and the initiation isn't at all as weird as you're thinking. My dreams are pure, I promise.

The start of university could be compared to getting on the bus for the first time. From the outside, you see people sitting in an orderly fashion. They all look invested, clean, and purposeful. You step on, and that’s when the noise starts. There’s people shouting, people on phones. You see a guy looking at you weirdly in the corner of your eye. You’ve paid for a service, but it isn’t at all the service you were expecting. Then, the engine starts. You’re thrust into a rickety, swerving journey, and you’re not even in control. When you finally get off, you’re unsure of why you got on in the first place. You wish for the bus even though you didn’t enjoy it all that much.

'That’s university,' I thought to myself as I left my first lecture on that warm, summery morning. You can probably tell I’m a melancholic person. Melancholic, but hopeful, I think, personally. I’m shy on the outside, but everything inside is moving very quickly. I’m like a comic book character, with the illustrations of surprise and stress buzzing in fine black lines around my head. No one else can see that but me. 

I didn't speak to anyone in that first lecture. An English Literature and Creative Writing BA and I didn’t speak a word of the language on my first day. I started passing the crowds at the Student Union, where SOCIETIES FAIR was written in bold green letters and plastered across the entrance window. Students were meandering in, mostly enticed by free pizza. I was prepared to walk past it, get my bike, and go home for a few hours until my 3pm seminar. 

But. 

But, I was distracted by a boy. Dark brown hair, a chirpy confident walk. I could only see the back of him as he walked into the building yet I knew he was smiling. He wore slacks and a tweed jacket, with those little stitched patches on the shoulders. Bold and long black shoes. The kind of shoes that tap on wooden floors, but can never be heard stomping. Tap, tap, tap. He was tapping away. 

Away from me. 

I needed to follow him, and before I knew it, I was in the centre of it all. I held welcome packages, a thousand tote bags and free pizza vouchers. The only plus was seeing the boy again. He was writing his name down on a registration sheet, chatting amicably with some older boys behind an old wooden table. It had been made to look pretty with confetti and torn pieces of literature stuck to its edges. My feet started walking before my brain had decided to follow him. 

“Hi. Welcome to the Dead Poets Society. Will you be joining us today?”  
A pen pressed against my chest. I stared down at it, then back at this new boy. His eyes were practically broadcasting a plea of hope. Hands shaking, I nodded, wrote my name down. 

“Todd Anderson. Okay, Todd, now we have your name, can we have your student number and email?”  
I stared.  
“To contact you?”

I nodded again, wrote everything down, grabbed a leaflet. Left. Ditching the tote bags on a bench, I sped to the door, and turned to the grass outside. Sat down, and lifted the leaflet.

It was a small club all about poetry, according to the leaflet. A way of connecting with others through a shared space, according to the leaflet. The only difference to the university’s English Lit society, though, was the Initiation, according to the leaflet.

I didn’t have a clue what an Initiation was. A hand shake? Throwing me into a lake at midnight? 

I was soon to find out, however. As I stood up, I had a confirmation email. I started walking to my bike while the email loaded. It took a few minutes, as the President of the society had chosen gifs instead of pictures. Fancy fonts instead of standard Ariel. Putting on my helmet, it finally formed. 

“DEAD POETS SOCIETY” it read.  
“WELCOME TO THE CLUB OF KINGS.

We have received your application to the DEAD POETS SOCIETY. Please find attached your WELCOME PACKAGE in addition to the enclosed document of the time and place of your INITIATION.

We look forward to seeing you! 

Knox Overstreet, Society President.”

I clicked the document so fast, I’m pretty sure my finger barely touched the screen. It was a map with an X pasted in animated red paint over what seemed to be a church. I zoomed in, and it was in fact the Methodist church a couple of streets away. Below the map was four sentences, written in a typewriter font. 

“Your INITIATION will commence at 9AM on September 29th. Please find your INITIATION in the room on the second floor. The stairs are to the right of the entrance. Good Luck.” 

Was a boy worth this much stress? Probably not. A sketchy church that isn’t even on the Main Street? No thanks. To see the smile behind the soft brown hair, though? I had to see it. And anyway, an initiation involves all members, so he had to be there. 

That evening, I rode my bike a lot more confidently than at the start of the day. A mystery society and a boy without a face. Possibly university was a lot more exciting than your average bus journey.


End file.
